Q is for Canada
by Fellowshipper
Summary: A very special all-Canadian wrestler edition of Space Ghost: Coast 2 Coast. Zorak hits it big, Space Ghost has a breakdown, and Brak's hungry. Will the world survive?
1. Default Chapter

Title: Q is for Canada  
Disclaimer: Hanna Barbara and the Cartoon Network own Space Ghost. The folks of WWE are owned by themselves and, to some extent, WWE. I, sadly, own nothing.  
Rating: G  
  
Notes: This is a sequel of sorts to Costume Party and my second go around with SG/WWE. It was too tempting to pass up. I'm a dork, I know. These guys are just way too fun to write, I guess.   
  
******  
  
(Backstage at the SG:C2C studio)  
  
Space Ghost: Bread, milk, cookies, bottled water --  
  
Zorak: Brak? Why are you dressed up like the idiot?  
  
Moltar: Actually, that, uh, *is* the idiot.  
  
Zorak: *squints* Eh. Whatever.  
  
Moltar: He's trying to remember his grocery list without writing it down. I told him he couldn't do it so he's trying to prove me wrong.  
  
Zorak: That's stupid.  
  
Moltar: Yeah, but it's kinda funny to watch.   
  
SG: (continuing) --cabbage, crunchy peanut butter, some of those really thin spaghetti noodles --  
  
Moltar: He wanted complete silence so he could say it often enough to himself with such force that it became part of his brain or something.  
  
Zorak: (bored) Really. (starts waving his arms back and forth and making a high-pitched squealing noise)  
  
SG: (frowning and faltering) --a new pizza cutter...uh...rocky road ice cream...um...Zorak, stop it!  
  
Moltar: Hey, what was that first thing on your list you were gonna get?  
  
SG: Easy! It was...it was...*twitches* I hate you both. (starts to leave for the stage but pauses at the last minute to turn and blast Zorak when he hears him snickering)  
  
(Opening credits)  
  
(SG invisos onto the set)  
  
SG: Greetings, citizens and citizenettes! We have a fine show lined up for you tonight --  
  
Zorak: (in background) like a firing squad.  
  
SG: (ignoring him) --that I really think you'll enjoy. And if you don't, well, that's the network's problem! *starts laughing as though he's never heard anything so funny. crickets chirp* Whew. I crack myself up.   
  
(Zorak and the Wayouts play him to his desk with Mary Had A Little Lamb)  
  
SG: (still laughing) Ah, the network...hooboy. That's a good one. Man, I am a riot machine.  
  
Zorak: Meaning people protest whenever you show up? Yes. You are.  
  
SG: Ahhh...*wipes tears from his eyes* Ah. Okay. Where was I?  
  
Zorak: You were talking about how you're going to surrender the show to me.  
  
SG: I was?  
  
Zorak: Yes.  
  
SG: Zorak, you wouldn't lie to me, would you?  
  
Zorak: Never! *mumbles unintelligibly under his breath*  
  
SG: What was that?  
  
Zorak: What was what?  
  
SG: What you just said.  
  
Zorak: I didn't say anything.  
  
SG: Are you lying to me again?  
  
Zorak: Again? That implies there was a first time. Look, if you don't trust me, just come out and say it.  
  
SG: I don't trust you.  
  
Zorak: Cool. So can I leave now?  
  
SG: No.  
  
Zorak: Ehhh. You'll regret that when I take over the world and crush this studio with my eyelid. And that, my friends, is true.  
  
SG: No you won't.  
  
Zorak: Are you doubting me?  
  
SG: You won't, Zorak, because there isn't enough money in the animation department to give you eyelids.  
  
Zorak: Well, that's just a minor setback.  
  
SG: (beat, then turns to look at the camera) Uh...huh. Anyway, our first guest tonight hails from planet Earth...*trails off* Moltar, just once I'd like to get someone not from Earth. Variety, y'know?  
  
Moltar: We did.  
  
SG: We did?  
  
Moltar: Yeah. Sorta. But he tried to kill you and take the show over, so I don't think that counts.  
  
SG: I don't remember that. Then again, it's happened so often it's hard to remember one specific time.  
  
Moltar: Happens to the best of us.  
  
SG: *shaking his head* Okay. Everyone, please welcome the lovely Trish Stratus.  
  
(TV lowers from the ceiling with Trish adjusting a microphone clipped to her shirt)  
  
SG: Greetings!  
  
Trish: Greetings, Space Ghost! How's it goin'?  
  
SG: Not too well. I've got this ache in my back, see, and my neck's been stiff all day...but thanks for asking.  
  
Trish: No problem.  
  
SG: Are you getting enough oxygen?   
  
Trish: I think so.  
  
SG: Either you are or you aren't, Trish. Since your head hasn't exploded, I'm willing to bet your oxygen level is satisfactory.  
  
Trish: (laughs a little nervously) Yeah, I guess so.  
  
SG: So. You were supposed to be on the show last time. What happened?  
  
Trish: I know! I'm really sorry I couldn't make it, but I had to do some promotional work I didn't know about when I agreed to, uh, when I agreed to be on the show.  
  
SG: That's a pretty lame excuse.  
  
Trish: It's not an excuse! I wanted to be on the show.  
  
SG: Are you lying to me, too? You know, I don't like being taken advantage of.  
  
Trish: I'd never lie to you, Space Ghost.  
  
SG: Uh huh.   
  
Trish: But I'm here now, so it worked out, right?  
  
SG: Uh...huh. You had your chance, missy, and you blew it. You know how quickly we use these fifteen minutes up?   
  
Trish: (beat, blinks innocently)  
  
SG: Obviously not. Well, since you're here, I guess we might as well do a segment. *shuffles cards* Do you like monkies?  
  
Trish: What?  
  
SG: Again with the yes or no questions, Trish. I'm not confusing you, am I?  
  
Zorak: Hey.  
  
SG: Not now, Zorak! Can't you see I've got a guest?  
  
Zorak: I think I just won the lottery.  
  
SG: *beat* Really?  
  
Zorak: Yeah. I got three disembodied heads in a row. That means I won. See? *holds up scratch-off lottery card* I'm leaving.  
  
SG: What? No! You can't just leave like this!   
  
Zorak: I'm off to get my money, get some eyelids, and when I come back you'll *really* be sorry.  
  
SG: Zorak! Think of everything we've been through together! You can't just pack up and...*trails off when Zorak leaves the studio* ...leave. Ahem. Fine! Then-then go! Just...just get your things and GO! *stares at his cards again, then buries his head in his hands* Oh, man, I am so gonna get fired for this.  
  
Trish: Space Ghost? Is...um, is something wrong?  
  
SG: YES, Trish, something is very wrong! I just unleashed a psychotic power-hungry six-foot-tall preying mantis into civilization, and now he's going to be rich, too! Would you like to tell me what's wrong here?  
  
Trish: It's not 'cause I don't like monkeys, is it? 'Cause if it is, I can...I can change my opinion.  
  
SG: *whimpers, falls forward to hit his head on the desk*  
  
[commercials]  
  
[after the break, we come back to the show to see Space Ghost lifting his head up slowly off the desk, only to let it drop back down.]  
  
SG: Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!  
  
Trish: That...that's not healthy, Space Gho--  
  
SG: (perking up, interrupting Trish) Hey! Do you know how to play a keyboard?  
  
Trish: Huh uh.  
  
SG: (beat) My. Aren't you useful.   
  
Trish: I don't have much musical talent. Sorry.  
  
SG: (whimpers, goes back to hitting his head on his desk)  
  
Moltar: Hey! Stop doing that! You're gonna break something!  
  
SG: Like my cranium?  
  
Moltar: Uh, no. I was talking about the coffee mug that's about to fall off.   
  
Trish: Is this a bad time? I could come back later...  
  
SG: (mumbling) Assuming I still have a studio later...  
  
Moltar: If I send in a replacement, you promise not to hurt me?  
  
SG: No.  
  
Moltar: ...'Kay. Well, I already told 'im to come in, anyway.  
  
SG: (wheels around slowly to see who the replacement is) No. Moltar, no. Absolutely not.  
  
Brak: (in Zorak's spot behind the keyboard) Spaaaaace Ghost!  
  
SG: Great. I had a sarcastic mantis and now I have a hyperactive...what *are* you, anyway?  
  
Brak: Hungry. Got any food around here? (notices Trish on the TV) Hey! Do you have any food? I like chicken.  
  
SG: Don't talk to her. She can't play a keyboard, I doubt she's carrying food with her.  
  
Trish: Actually...*digs through her purse and comes back with a roll of Lifesavers* I have a few left.  
  
SG: Oh, but you don't keep a keyboard in there? What kind of guest are you? Be prepared next time! *blasts Trish off the TV*  
  
Brak: (disappointed) She was gunna give me candy.  
  
SG: NO, Brak, no one is going to give you candy.   
  
Brak: Why not?   
  
SG: (ignoring Brak) Moltar! Next guest!  
  
*TV lowers from the ceiling with Lance Storm on the screen*  
  
SG: Citizen Storm, nice to have you on the show.  
  
Lance: It's nice to be here, sir.  
  
SG: Oh, please, call me Space Ghost. Or Mr. Ghost, if you have to.  
  
Lance: Can I call you Space?  
  
SG: ...No.  
  
Lance: What about Spacey?  
  
SG: (beat) So Lance, it says here on my handy-dandy cards that you're really Henry Rollins' long-lost twin.  
  
Lance: (laughing) That's a misconception, actually. We're not related.  
  
SG: Ever been to one of his concerts?  
  
Lance: Nope.  
  
SG: Video tapings?  
  
Lance: Huh uh.  
  
SG: Family reunion?  
  
Lance: I'm not related to Henry Rollins!  
  
SG: No, I was asking if you wanted to come to my family reunion. Geez, if you're gonna get so upset about it...  
  
Lance: Sorry. I have a pretty busy schedule.  
  
SG: (frowning) So busy you can't come say hi to a few members of the Space Ghost family?  
  
Lance: I do a lot of traveling.  
  
SG: I travel across whole galaxies! Try another excuse. You know, there was this one time when I went ... (trails off, slowly looks to his left) Brak! Stop it!  
  
Brak: (gnawing on the side of Zorak's keyboard) But I'm hungry and you wouldn't let that nice lady gimme any food and you don't have any food around here and Mom says I haveta eat when I get hungry or I'll get really cranky. I'd really like some chicken. You need some chicken around here.   
  
SG: (beat) Some days it just doesn't pay to start breathing.  
  
Lance: You're saying there are times when you don't breathe?  
  
SG: Who asked you?  
  
Lance: (grins nervously, looks a little intimidated)  
  
SG: Anyway, I've noticed you have a new look going. Tell us about it.  
  
Lance: It's not really anything that different, just different tights.   
  
SG: But you have superhero trunks now! Are you taking up crime-fighting?  
  
Lance: I hadn't planned on it, no.  
  
SG: Ah, no one ever does, young valiant Lance. 


	2. part two the end

--Cut to a scene outside a 7-11. Zorak is waiting impatiently in line behind someone arguing the value of Slurpees with the cashier. --  
  
Zorak: Hey, buddy, you mind getting outta the way? I'm kinda in a hurry.  
  
RVD: Chill out, man. It's just a l'il friendly conversation.  
  
Zorak: You'll see how friendly when I shove a pincher up your --  
  
Voice over the intercom: Attention shoppers: whoever is driving a lime green Chevy with license plate 'GREEN-1', you left your lights on in the parking lot.  
  
RVD: Hey, I bet that's you.  
  
Zorak: Wow. You're a genius.  
  
RVD: Yeah, I get that a lot. Don't worry, dude. I'll save your spot.  
  
Zorak: Oh, goodie. (walks off, mumbling, to the door)  
  
--Cut back to the Space Ghost studio. SG is obviously in the middle of a big, drawn-out story. --  
  
SG: --so then, after you fully accept all crime-fighting responsibilities and pass a few quick tests, they give you a cool new title.   
  
Lance: (looks especially bored, eyes glazed over) That...yeah. That's nice. Can we talk about something else now?  
  
SG: No! You're the guest, I'm the host, I'll come up with the topics!  
  
Lance: You hate me, don't you?  
  
SG: Bread!  
  
Lance: (blinks, understandably confused)  
  
SG: Bread! That was the first thing on my list that I was going to get! Ha! Take that, Moltar!  
  
Moltar: (bored) Uh huh, that's great.  
  
SG: (smugly) Showed him.   
  
Lance: (dryly) You sure did.  
  
SG: I get the impression you don't like me very much, Citizen Lance.  
  
Lance: What gave you that idea?  
  
SG: I don't know, just the way you're looking off into the distance, like you're a million miles away right now.  
  
Lance: (beat) Um...I was, uh, thinking about...uh...all the things we have in common!  
  
SG: Do tell.  
  
Lance: Uh...well...I think we're both misunderstood. We run around in tights for a living.   
  
SG: By George, you're right! We're very much alike, you and I. We're both from very foreign lands. I'm from Ghost Planet, and you're from Canada. So we're both strangers in strange worlds!  
  
Lance: Yeah. And everyone makes fun of us because we run around in tights on a regular basis.  
  
SG: Yea--hey! Hold on a minute! Who's making fun --  
  
Lance: (interrupting) And to that extent, most people question whether or not our occupations really qualify as jobs or not.  
  
SG: Silence, cretin!  
  
Lance: Hey, do you care if I write this whole experience into my autobiography?   
  
SG: Go write a dictionary for all I care! Ingrate! *blasts Lance off the screen* Man oh man. Just when I thought I'd found a guest that liked me. (sighs loudly, tapping his cards against the desk and casting a wary glance at Brak) You're being awfully quiet over there.  
  
Brak: I'm dying of hunger.  
  
SG: Good.   
  
Moltar: Ouch.  
  
SG: Yeah, yeah. Next up we have writer, musician, singer, wrestler, and *squints at cards* King of the World? Well, I'm not sure about that one, but anyway, please welcome Y2J, the Lionheart, the Living Legend, the Ayatollah of Rock and Rollah, the Man of a Thousand and Four Holds, the --  
  
Moltar: Dude, just get on with it.  
  
SG: Uh, yeah. Chris Jericho, ladies and gentlemen.  
  
*TV reception goes fuzzy before showing Jericho on the screen*  
  
SG: (dives behind his chair) Gah! Moltar, you said Chris Jericho, not Bin Laden!  
  
Moltar: That IS Chris Jericho.  
  
SG: (glaring at the screen) I don't think so.  
  
Chris: Did I already make a bad impression?   
  
SG: (muttering) He doesn't *sound* like Bin Laden...  
  
Chris: I guess you don't like my goattee either.  
  
SG: That is not a goattee! That...that's the fur of a dead animal glued to your chin!  
  
Chris: I'll take that as a no.  
  
SG: (slowly crawling back into his chair) You take it correctly. So...ah...you seem to be a multi-talented individual.   
  
Chris: I guess. Thanks.  
  
SG: That was an observation, not a compliment.  
  
Chris: (laughs nervously) Uh...  
  
SG: You're in a *making quote signs with his fingers* "band," right?  
  
Chris: Yeah. What's with the quotes? We're the biggest band on Earth!  
  
SG: But we're not on Earth anymore, pal!  
  
Chris: Hmm. Good point.  
  
SG: As usual.  
  
Brak: HEY!  
  
SG: (jumping) What?!  
  
Brak: I was in a band once.  
  
SG: Uh huh, that's nice. So Chris --  
  
Brak: (interrupting, going on with his story) We were gunna be huge, but then Zorak smashed a guitar over our manager's head. Things were never really the same after that.   
  
Chris: That's too bad, man.  
  
Brak: Tell me about it. We were gunna go on tour and get famous. I was gunna buy three brand new fish with that money, too.  
  
Chris: I'm sorry to hear that.  
  
SG: Excuse me. Hey, you. Yeah, you. I'm the host here, not him. If you don't mind --  
  
Chris: (ignoring SG) Have you thought about putting in classified ads for new bandmembers? Lots of people do it. Metallica did and look where they are.  
  
SG: Washed up hasbeens busy suing everyone and their grandma?  
  
Brak: I tried classified ads once, but I only got one reply from some Russian man who wanted to move in with me and have my babies.   
  
Chris: Uh, not those kinda classifieds.   
  
SG: Hey! *waves arms around* I'm right HERE! Here!  
  
Brak: I'm a good singer.  
  
Chris: You should audition for Fozzy sometime! We're always on the hunt for new talent.  
  
SG: Excuse me, but --  
  
Brak: Really? Cool!  
  
Chris: Yeah. (pulls a guitar out from under his seat) Let's have a little tryout right here.   
  
SG: You can't do that!  
  
Chris: I'm the lead singer, I can do what I want!  
  
SG: We're supposed to be talking about wrestling!  
  
Chris: (begins tuning the guitar) Alright, man. Go for it.   
  
Brak: (singing)   
A is for the apples that usually gimme gas.   
B is for the shard of glass I got stuck in my --  
  
SG: Hey!  
  
Brak: (singing some more)  
C is for Chris, the best Canadian around.  
D is for my pet tree Otis planted way down in the ground.  
E is for some stuff I like and stuff I don't like, too.  
F is for some more stuff but this time this stuff's for you.  
G is for geraniums, like in my mom's front yard.  
H is for the hot dogs made of beef and frogs and lard.  
  
SG: Oh, ew. That was uncalled for. And you! (turns to the screen, glaring at Jericho) Stop it! Stop playing! Stop encouraging him!  
  
Brak: (still singing)  
I is for the ice I really like to skate upon.  
J is for Chris Jericho and his super cool guitar.   
  
SG: (under his breath) Suck-up.  
  
Brak: (yeah, he's still singing)  
K is for the kangaroos in Austria and zoos.  
L is for the llamas you can find there -- they're brand new!  
  
SG: Australia, Brak. Kangaroos are in --  
  
Brak: (...you get it by now.)  
M is for Montana and those strange militia groups.  
N is for no tanners are good for me or you.   
  
SG: What? That didn't even make sense!  
  
Brak:   
O is for Old McDonald and his big ol' farm.  
P is for the pimple I once got on my left arm.  
Q is for Canada, my favorite snowy place.  
R is for race cars 'cause they really like to...uh...race.  
  
(SG groans and smacks his forehead)  
  
Brak:  
S is for Spaaaaace Ghost, my boss who's kinda mean.  
T is for Turtle Wax - it makes cars really gleam!  
U is for the Undertaker, that really scary guy.  
V is for very sad movies that make me cry.  
  
SG: That didn't rhyme, you --  
  
Brak:   
W is for wrestling, my favoritest sport.  
X is for X-Pac, a part of TV time no more.  
Y is for yuletide carols and making spirits bright.  
Z is for my good pal, Zorak, and to all of you, good night!  
(breaks into incoherent scatting)  
  
Chris: (jumps up in his seat, finishing the song in a very loud, very fast guitar solo) Yeah, baby! That's what I'm talkin' about!  
  
SG: That...was the dumbest thing I've ever witnessed in my life.  
  
Chris: Whew! That was awesome! You're in!  
  
SG: He's in?! That's all it takes to get into a rock band these days, just butcher the alphabet? When should *I* put in my application to get in the band?  
  
Chris: Uh...well, we need a new roadie.  
  
--Cut to the 7-11 again. Zorak is walking back inside, mumbling to himself. He stops short in the doorway, gawking, as he sees RVD surrounded by store employees, confetti being sprayed everywhere, the works.--  
  
Zorak: What's goin' on here?  
  
RVD: Dude, you're never gonna believe this, but you dropped your lottery ticket on the way out the door! I picked it up to give it back and the cashier thought it was *mine* so she scanned it and it won! Can you believe it? Now they think I'm a millionaire!  
  
Zorak: But...but that's mine! You can't...thief! (twitches, then falls down to the ground, kicking and screaming)  
  
RVD: Hey, chill out, man. It's all cool when you're R *point* V *point* D! *point*  
  
--Cut back to the backstage of the Space Ghost studio. SG is walking around in a robe, muttering to himself. Moltar is eating a sandwich and watching TV, as usual. Zorak is walking in, shattered.--  
  
Moltar: Hey.  
  
Zorak: Ehh. Go away.  
  
Moltar: I thought you won the lottery or something.  
  
Zorak: I did. Then some hippie stole my ticket and got rich off it.   
  
Moltar: That sucks.  
  
Zorak: Yeah. So what happened here?  
  
Moltar: Well, Space Ghost's back to reciting his grocery list, his guests all but told him they hated him, and Brak ran off with Chris Jericho to join his band.  
  
Zorak: So I didn't miss anything.  
  
Moltar: Nope. Have a seat and be poor with the rest of us.   
  
Zorak: It's not faaaair!  
  
Moltar: Hey, if you really wanna make some quick money, I hear Fozzy's hiring for a new roadie. 


End file.
